Arrows tipped with feathers red
Will fill The Devil’s heart with dread.
Feathers at The Devil’s feet
Will mean a devil’s death he’ll meet.

Ten nights he has to change his ways
From hellish acts to brighter days,
Or running he must surely start
Before the feathers pierce his heart.

For once he sees that deadly symbol,
Slow and sure, or quick and nimble,
Steady hand and steady bow
Will freeze him in the blushing snow.

The night is swiftly drawing near.  
Within my heart a stroke of fear.
What world awaits me when I sleep?
What gorgeous terrors my mind keeps
From me until I close my eyes
And leave the waking world behind!

In dreams a false reality:
What gives me strength to let me fly
Past crescent moons, through airy lakes,
And watch the heav’nly light rays break
Through clouds of cotton soaring high
Above the fields of warm July?

This realm I pray to never leave;
Its absence I so sorely grieve
When, more and more, I seem to find
The inner fabric of my mind
Distorting into something base:
My dreams now seem to wear your face.

For no amount of light can ease
The pain from dreams that will not cease.
In sleep, or wakening, I know
Your Devil’s face will always show,
For like a sunset in the East,
You’re like a never-dying Beast.

Lo! On the wing of heavy gales,
Through the boundless arch of the sky he sails,
Unspeaking, rapid, immensely strong,
His silent shadow is borne along
By his steeds of fog and cloud and hail,
The earth does shake and the skies do wail.

The skies darken fast, and the golden blaze
Of the sun is quenched in a lurid haze,
Then black, a black of a starless night
When clouds descend and block all light.
I stand, I wait, I hold no fear,
My body poised and my mind is clear.

He is come! He is come! Do ye not behold
His ample robes on the wind unrolled?
How his huge and writhing arms are bent,
To clasp the zone of the firmament,
And fold at length, in their dark embrace,
From mountain to mountain the visible space.

And he sends through the shade a funeral ray—
A glare that is neither night nor day,
A beam that touches, with hues of death,
The clouds above and the earth beneath.
And with the glare comes a heart-wrenching cry,
Solemn, grave and joy deprived.

And with the cry falls fast the tears,
Lashing, bitter, punishing, drear.
His tears the lashing rain that breaks
In torrents away from the airy lakes,
Heavily poured on the shuddering ground,
And shedding a nameless horror round.

Darker—still darker! The whirlwinds bear
The dust of the plains to the middle air:
And hark to the crashing, long and loud,
His agony, high up in the thunder cloud!
A whirling ocean that fills the wall
Of the crystal heaven, and buries all!

I stand, braced ‘gainst his icy breath
And speak, my voice strong – I’ve no fear of death.
“Lord of the winds! I feel thee nigh,
I know thy breath in the burning sky!
Calm thy storm, I know thy pain!
I too lost my lover – my heart was enchained!”

“Thy agony is clear, but why dost thou cry?
For can ye not see that before you ‘tis I?
I’ve roamed o’er hill, mountain, valley and glen –
I have searched for too long to lose thee again!
My love! Reach down to the earth and clasp me securely
And united together forever we’ll be!”

I looked at him softly, placed my hands on his face,
and just for a moment, saw myself in his place.

I am the power and grace and the beauty you see,
The strength to serve you, yet the will to be free.
I am the gentleness, soft snorts and deep eyes of brown,
But the passion and prowess and pawing the ground.

I am the race and the fight and the wanting to win,
The muscle and sweat drops and glistening skin.
I am the step and the kick and the gleam and the pride,
But a bond and a boot and a stick in my stride.

I reached out to him, to bring him back home,
But he fought and he fled, so I turned tail, alone.

Many Jack does come-a here
in bat-light hours stumble far.
How you wander here then, Jack?
Not follow misty guiding star?

Jack all alone in darkling woods.
Why Jack elf so alone?
No Jill elf keep-a company?
Be Jack elf never Jill elf known?

Why Jack be looking sad, Jack elf?
Jack know not way to go?
What be you in your hand, Jack elf?
Why dew from eyelets flow?

Jack come with me, me know what way.
Me play-a Jack a song!
Me keep-a Jack in heart and mind!
With me Jack elf belong!

I approach most desires
like a competition; can I
**** better than him;
can I be famous at twenty-
-three since he was famous at
twenty-four -- I must be able
to sink better than him.

God, it is exhausting. I
feel like I'm dancing with
a machine; a phantom that
I can never catch, for it runs
on my blood; my insecurities;
my passion -- and, boy, oh boy,
can I attest to having plenty of
  that stuff, ladies and germs.

I think, truly, that I am
encompassing the American Dream
I think is utterly flawed; that I think
is futile in nature; that I am sure of
is the closest thing to Hell, in this
Godless, spiritually motherless
dark shoebox of sudden collisions;
this space of useful and useless
results, splayed onto and into
our hearts, asking for reverence.

There is nothing  I want more
than to be sure that my importance
is not illusory. I am not sure if
I am real.